First, I would like to thank all those who sent good wishes to me yesterday. I appreciate them very much.

So, here’s how it went on my essentially blog-free birthday night. I had a great dinner, along with a couple glasses of excellent sangiovese wine. After dinner, I had a wonderful, fattening dessert, which was eaten guilt-free, as calories don’t count on one’s birthday. I opened some presents, which consisted of some fine bourbon and a few primo CD’s.

I fired up a CAO corona and sat down in Mr. Recliner, to watch the Yankees play Boston. Admittedly, I am not currently much of a baseball fan, but when I was a fan, I was a rabid Yankees fan – the stuff of another post. I nodded off (after finishing the cigar) while the Red Sox were in the lead, and I woke up to a tie score, five minutes before the game winning homer. After the game and the post game hoopla, I fell asleep again in Mr. Recliner. Up to this point, the night was excellent.

However, when I awoke, the television was showing Suzanne Somers’ latest infomercial, which features her looking fabulous working out on one of her latest exercise contraptions. Then it dawned on me.

It was also Suzanne Somers’ birthday.

In fact, Ms. Somers and I are exactly the same age (although it is possible that one of is as much as twenty-three hours and 59 minutes older than the other). She looks absolutely terrific, and I…well……

Damn.